


Ailment to be Figured

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, No Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deal gone bad leaves Rumpelstiltskin suffering from the effects of a cupid’s arrow. Fortunately, Belle knows just what to do for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ailment to be Figured

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Regrettably I do not own OUAT or anything remotely affiliated with it.
> 
> A/N: The prompt for this story was provided by Snapegirlkmf. This o/s is her prize for winning the trivia contest on our OUAT group. It was also turned into one of my entries for Emilie Brown’s cover bunny contest. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

      The string of curses issuing forth from his mouth as he limped up the cobbled walk adorning his courtyard, would have had an entire horde of ogres running for the nearest mountain pass to seek refuge from his wrath.  Glancing down at the golden arrow protruding from his leather-clad thigh only enflamed his rage all the more.  How was he to know that the flighty little cupid would change her mind at the last minute and want to back out of a deal with the Dark One?  Cupids were known for their simpering ideals of helping one on the path to true love…all rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers, love conquers all and true loves kiss…most of which made him want to hurl sharp pointy objects, not to mention the contents of his stomach.

      Love…especially true love…didn’t exist for someone such as him, and he wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking it did.  Perhaps.  He wasn’t going to think about his little caretaker…his Belle…the one shining light in the dark abyss that served as his soul.  His Belle with her bright smiles and soft shy touches.  His little dearie with her unfailing loyalty and knowing looks.  His precious girl who wasn’t afraid of the monster he was.  He cursed again at his wayward thoughts as he marched painfully up the marble steps to the entry doors of the Dark Castle.  She could shout to the heavens that he wasn’t a monster, but she didn’t realize just who he was, couldn’t possibly know what he’d done in the endless centuries he’d been alive.  If she did, she’d been running as far and as fast as her feet could carry her.

      It didn’t matter that she’d awakened feelings in him that he’d long thought dead and buried…if they’d ever existed in the first place…and he would never open himself up to the heartbreak of allowing her to see those feelings and suffer the rejection that would surely follow.  It was all that blasted cupid’s fault!  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the queen or that meddlesome fairy were behind this.  A cupid, however, wouldn’t flit within ten feet of the evil queen and those loathsome little creatures thought themselves better than the fairies of this realm.  Nothing worse than a love spouting cupid with a cocky attitude.  Speaking of attitude, perhaps if he could’ve reigned in his own, he wouldn’t now be _walking_ home, deprived of his magic, with a bloody golden arrow protruding from his leg.

      And apparently, the day was only destined to get worse.  With a mighty kick, the door opened and he limped into the foyer, his stormy amber gaze searching the darkened recesses of his home for his little caretaker.  He found her, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the marble floor…a second before his booted feet slipped out from beneath him on the slippery surface and he landed with an oomph flat on his back, his head smacking sharply against the stone.

      “Rumpel!  Gods, are you alright?” she asked, hurrying to his side and dropping back to her knees, her hands fluttering uselessly over his prone form searching for injury.  She paled at the site of the arrow sticking out of his leg.  “What happened to you?” She ignored the condescending smirk that curled his thin lips.

      “Who told you to flood the entrance hall!?” he hissed, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare at her.

      She arched a brow at him, her lips pressing together in a tightly compressed line of irritation.  “Since when do you walk through the door instead of magically poofing in and out?” she returned.  She offered him a hand to help him up from the floor, but he waved it aside, grumbling incoherently under his breath. 

      “Apparently, the deal didn’t go as planned and I may have run into a slight problem, dearie.  Nothing to concern your pretty little head,” he snapped, swaying unsteadily once he’d regained his footing.  He turned his back on her and limped into the Great Hall, falling heavily on the padded seat of his favorite chair.

      Belle followed, crossing her arms over her chest as she came to stand beside him.  Her fingers itched to see to his wound, only imagining the pain he must be in.  A brief flash of his discomfort flitted across his face as he shifted slightly.  “Rumpel, let me help you,” she said softly, kneeling beside his outstretched legs and placing her small hand on his thigh.

      Rumpelstiltskin stared down into her wide blue eyes, his brow furrowed in a puzzled frown, his heart speeding up at that strategically placed hand.  _I do not want her, I do not want her, I do not…who the fuck am I kidding?_   Slowly he nodded, closing his eyes against the radiance of her blinding smile.  He let her help him up from the chair, leaning heavily on her as she led him from the hall and up the stairs to his workroom…or what had served as his workroom until he’d decided to add a library to the space.  Now it was _their_ room.  He groaned, the magic of the arrow coursing through him and causing a wave of dizziness to further muddle his head.

      A rumbling growl erupted in his chest, pain stabbing at his wound as he flopped down onto the chaise… _her_ chaise…he kept up there.  She spent more hours on that chaise in his plain sight while he worked than he’d care to admit…usually at his request.  His mercurial moods benefitted from her soothing presence and he found he worked better if she provided her company while he worked.

      “You’re going to have to remove your pants,” she said in a casual tone that belied the flaming blush that was quickly spreading along her neck to settle into her face.  She left him there and scurried about the room searching for bandages and a healing salve he kept in the cabinet with cordials and remedies for minor injuries and sickness.

      He could feel the blood drain from his face as he gaped at her.  Thankfully, she didn’t see the shocked expression he wore.  “I beg your pardon, dearie?”

      Belle nodded with satisfaction that she had the right salve and straightened, turning back to him with a tiny smile.  “After I pull the arrow out, I can’t very well bandage your wound with your pants in the way.  They’ll have to come off.  They’re ruined anyway by the looks of it.”

      “I will NOT!!” he protested, scooting farther down the chaise away from her questing hands as she tackled the laces on his boots.  “I will NOT expose myself to you, Belle!  The impropriety—“

      “Pfft!” she snorted.  “Propriety be damned, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’ll not have you bleeding all over my favorite chair.  Besides, it’s just you and I here in the castle.  Who’s to know?”

      “I’ll know, damnit!” he roared.

      Belle gave him a pointed look…the one that clearly stated, without her having to say a word, that she wasn’t going to put up with any of his crap.  When he didn’t bother to answer, she pulled his foot into her lap and set to untying the laces.  “Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asked gently, pulling off his boot and reaching for the other.

      He watched her warily, relaxing under her touch after a moment.  “I…um…I was called upon by a cupid.”

      “Really?  What would a cupid want with you?  I thought they had all the magic they needed at their fingertips…or rather the tips of their arrows,” Belle retorted dryly, letting his other boot drop next to the first.  She set his foot down and moved closer to him so she could inspect his wound.

      “She needed a potion to enhance the arrow’s power…OUCH!” he yowled as her probing fingers pressed down into his flesh.  “Watch what you’re doing!”

      “Oh, don’t be such a baby!  I’m being as gentle as I can, Rum.  In case you haven’t noticed, there’s an arrow sticking out of your leg,” she drawled out in a dry tone.

      Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes.  “Anyway, she needed the potion because apparently the man she wanted to use it on was being a bit stubborn and practically running from his true love as fast as his feet would carry him.  She wanted something with a little kick,” he explained.

      Belle hummed softly to let him know she was paying attention as she pressed a towel to his leg and gripped the shaft of the arrow.  “You might want to hold on,” she warned, the words barely out of her mouth before she was ripping the projectile out of his flesh.

      The sorcerer howled in agony as she tossed the arrow away from her and pressed down with the towel to stem the flow of blood.  “Sorry!  Sorry, Rum,” she cooed, rubbing her free hand over his uninjured right thigh in an effort to calm him.  He gnashed his teeth together, snarling and spitting curses as pain radiated from the wound.  Without his power, he would be forced to suffer through it.

      He pressed his head firmly into the cushioned back of the chaise and threw an arm up to cover his eyes, a soft whimper escaping his parted lips.  Belle could feel tears sting her eyes and she blinked rapidly lest he see and scold her for the weakness. In all the time she’d lived with him in the Dark Castle, she’d never let him see her cry and she wouldn’t now give him an excuse to ridicule her.

      “So…what did you ask for in return?  I’m assuming she took exception to your price and decided to shoot you instead of paying up.”

      “Brilliant deduction, dearie,” he snarled.  “I simply wanted one of her arrows.  I wanted to study the magical properties and find out what made them so special.  She’d already used the potion on the arrow she needed for her next victim, so she decided if I were to have an arrow it would be imbedded in me.”

      “It could’ve been worse,” Belle said, biting down on her lip to stifle the chuckle rising in her throat.

      “I don’t see how!” he snapped.

      “Well,” she began, her lips twitching in the effort to belay her smile.  “She could have shot you in the ass.”

      The Dark One’s head snapped up, his overly large amber irises flashing fire at her.  He opened his mouth to scold her and froze, heat radiating from the wound, whatever magic contained in the arrow tip worming its way into his blood stream and racing through his body.  A pleasant lethargy invaded his limbs and left him weak, sweat broke out on his brow and he slumped wearily back against the chaise.

      “Rumpel, what is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, worry banishing all traces of her previous amusement.

      His speech was slightly slurred when he answered.  “Whatever magic was in that arrow, apparently doesn’t mix well with what I am.”

      Blushing furiously, her fingers reached for the ties of his leather trousers.  She needed to clean and bandage his wound and it was clear to her that there was little time to spare.  He gripped her wrists tightly to still her efforts.  “No,” he said, his usual high pitched tone falling flat.

      “Rumpel—“

      “I said no.”  He gestured a hand to his work table.  “There are a pair of scissors in the third drawer.  You may use those to cut around the area you need to clean.”

      Belle sighed and rose to fetch the scissors from their place in his worktable.  “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.  You’re still a man in all the ways that count, your outward appearance is just a bit different.”  Her steady tone faltered as she resumed her seat at his side and began cutting the tattered edges of the leather from around his wound, the gold tone of his skin glittering in the strong sunlight streaming in through the open curtains.  “During the ogre’s war, I saw much I’d just as soon forget.”

      “Is that where you honed your lovely bedside manner?” he asked with a flourish of his elegant spinner’s hand, giggling lightly, trying to tease her from her melancholy.  When he failed to make her smile, he reached out and gently tipped her chin up to meet his gaze.  “I wish I could have spared you that horror, Belle.”

      Finally, a sad little smile graced her rosebud mouth before she turned back to her work, using a strong antiseptic to clean out the wound.  “You did…for the most part.  It would have been much worse if you hadn’t come at all.”

      “You sacrificed yourself to a beast.  How much worse could it be?” he whispered miserably, guilt pressing in on his chest as he watched her closely.  “No one else would have been willing to give up their freedom to come here with me.”

      He hissed as she prodded the wound, searching it for dirt or debris that might have been left by the arrow before applying salve with a gentle touch.  She covered it with a small cotton square and began wrapping a linen bandage around his thigh to hold it all in place.

      “I did what I thought was best, Rumpel.  It was a small price to pay for the safety of my people, really.  You saved everyone…”

      “But?”

      “I think you came out on the worse end of the deal.  I’m not a very good caretaker,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.  “I gained so much coming here with you.  You saved me too…from a life spent as a brood mare for the unfeeling lummox my father betrothed me to, from a sad life spent locked away in his castle with no joy…only sorrow.  You gave me an adventure.”

      Warmth flooded his chest, whether from the cupid’s arrow or something else he couldn’t be certain.  She gathered up her medicinals and       bandages and moved to put them away, leaving him to his thoughts.  Yet they weren’t silent for long.  “You’re happy here with me, then, dearie?  You don’t desire your freedom?”

      Belle poured water into a bowl from the pitcher on his worktable and dipped a cloth into it before returning to his side.  She sat beside him once more and brushed the curls away from his eyes, using the cloth to clean his dusty face.  “What I desire is irrelevant, we have a deal and I _will_ honor it, but I wouldn’t mind permission to visit the village from time to time.  It would be nice to have more freedom to my movements, but I don’t want to leave the Dark Castle.  This is my home now, Rumpel; I don’t wish to leave you…er…it.”

      His heart clenched at her words, the walls around that traitorous organ crumbling just a bit more for his little dearie.  In that moment of honesty, he knew he had to at least give her the choice.  “If…ah…if you choose to leave, it would be your choice.  I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay any longer.”

      The icy hand of fear clutched her heart as she stared, stunned, down into his hooded eyes.  “Y-You want me to leave?” she asked, her voice quavering, her lower lip trembling at the thought of leaving him.

      He closed himself off from her, waving his hand dismissively.  “Of course not, dearie.  If you are happy here, who am I to tell you to go?  But I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner.  Nothing worse than a disgruntled servant,” he quipped.  “You might decide one day to poison my porridge.”

      Her laughter was warm as she reached for the wool blanket draped over the back of the chaise and spread it over him.  “Thank you.”  Impulsively she reached over and kissed his cheek.  She’d seen the fear in his eyes before he’d hidden himself away again.  He cared more than he was ready to admit, but she could be patient just as he could be stubborn.  What a fine pair they made, she thought ruefully.  She was just relieved that he wasn’t planning to send her away.  “You rest, alright?  I need to finish the entry hall and then start dinner, but I promise to check on you in a bit.”

      Rumpelstiltskin watched her go, a troubled frown creasing his weathered face.  He lifted his hand to touch his cheek where her soft lips had brushed against his skin, his flesh tingling from the contact long after she’d disappeared down the staircase.  She was a puzzle he doubted he’d ever completely solve, but he took comfort in the fact that he’d done the right thing by granting her freedom and giving her the choice of remaining with him or returning to her father.  He was still pondering her choice to stay with him when he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

X*X*X*X*X

      Rumpelstiltskin had been sleeping when she’d checked on him after she’d finished the entry hall so she’d left him to his rest and trudged back to the kitchens to fix them a light meal.  The chicken and vegetable soup that had been simmering all day would be comforting on the cool autumn evening and in case he were suffering a queasy stomach from any side effects of the arrow, it wouldn’t be too heavy for him to eat.  She loaded their bowls, a loaf of bread she’d baked that morning and two cups of tea onto a tray and set off for the library.

      Belle could feel the weariness in her body from her productive day by the time she reached the tower where their library/workroom was located, and she plunked the tray down a bit harder on the table than was her norm.  He was still sleeping and it caused a sliver of concern to creep up her spine.  She’d never known him to sleep so long.  He’d be the first to tell her he survived on four hours of sleep a night…if he slept at all.

      She lowered herself down onto the chaise, her hip pressing into his as she reached to brush his hair away from his brow.  She jerked her hand back as it came into contact with his fevered flesh.  Reaching out, she shook him gently.  “Rumpelstiltskin!”

      He shivered under her touch and pulled the blanket higher to tuck beneath his chin, his eyes cracking open just enough for her to see them glassy and unfocused with fever.  “Mff,” he mumbled incoherently.  “Why’sit s’cold?”

      “Oh, Rumpel, it’s not cold.  You’re burning up with fever,” she said, trying to keep her voice even so as not to alarm him.  She pulled the corner of the blanket away from his leg and peeled the bandage back to inspect his wound.  She breathed a sigh of relief to find no traces of infection, but that meant it could only be whatever magic the arrow was imbued with was causing his sickness.  Wounds she could handle, but this was clearly out of her league.

      “I’ll b’fine, love,” he mumbled, the endearment slipping from his tongue without a thought, his guard completely down and leaving him vulnerable.

      Her eyes scanned the myriad of cabinets lining one wall of the workroom, wondering if there was something within that would help to lower his fever as she moved to wet another cloth to cool his brow.  “Rumpel, surely you have something here that can help.”

      He shook his head and then groaned from the movement, pressing his head back into the throw pillow he rested upon.  “I’m not human, Belle.  Those remedies won’t work on me,” he said with a sigh.  There was no way he was going to tell her his blood felt like it was boiling in his veins, or that he was beginning to taste the acrid hint of fear at the back of his throat.  Since becoming the Dark One, he hadn’t had to worry about sickness aside from the occasional run in he had with a certain fairy and her dust.  That stuff would lay him low for a few days, draining him of strength, but never with the pain he was feeling now.  “Just let me sleep.”

      Belle nibbled thoughtfully on her lip, wringing her hands where they rested upon her lap.  Their dinner was all but forgotten, her appetite fleeing as she watched her beloved sorcerer suffer under the effects of the arrow.  There had to be some book in their vast library that would offer a solution to this unknown magic.  She waited to begin her search until he had fallen back into a restless sleep, foregoing her own selections and heading straight for the tomes lined on the shelves closest to his worktable…the same books she had been forbidden to touch under any circumstances.  She thought the risk of his rage was well worth it if she could find some information to restore him.

      Dawn was just peeking over the horizon when she finally came across a small leather bound volume titled, _“Magical Creatures and their Impact upon the World”._   She read, her vision wavering as she scanned the pages, but all remnants of tiredness fled as her eyes took in the chapter title, _”Cupid: friend or foe?”_.  Well, why the hell not?  There had been chapters on trolls, goblins, sea nymphs and griffons, just to name a few…so why not one depicting the elusive beings devoted to love?

      _Cupids, for all their good intentions of helping the lonely on their path to love, are not entirely good nor entirely evil.  Some are known to harbor bitterness in their hearts.  Because a cupid can help mortals on their path to love, they are not allowed to experience love themselves.  Their arrows can imbue the purest of love, or just as easily turn true love into the deepest heartbreak, rending the pair apart to despair and never find love again._

      Belle gasped, her rapt attention focused on what she was reading.  She’d always heard nothing but good about the cupids and their quest to unite lovers and spread love throughout the realm.  She glanced over at her sorcerer and smirked.  Leave it to him to have a book stating otherwise.

_There has only been one reported incident where a cupid succumbed to the emotion they wielded.  A very powerful cupid named Serenity, one of the most powerful of her kind, fell in love with a dark wizard.  Of course, the wizard, having let the darkness consume him many years before, wasn’t capable of such tender emotion.  Though she was warned against using her arrows on a magical creature, especially one so mired in darkness as the wizard, she went against her superiors and prayed that it would open his heart to her.  The price was high for disobeying.  His magic was trapped within his body with no outlet and it slowly boiled him to death from the inside.  Serenity lapsed into such deep despair at the death of her love, she laid down her bow and let her sorrow consume her.  A statue was erected in their glade, it is said, to warn others never to repeat her tragic mistake._

      Belle felt tears prick at her eyes, saddened for the cupid’s loss, but she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on it.  She couldn’t let the same thing happen to Rumpelstiltskin.  She turned the page and felt hope bloom to life in her chest.

_To avoid losing another of their ranks should something like this ever happen again, the cupids made a pact with the council of wizards and together concocted a potion to cure the effects of the arrow.  It may not be one hundred percent proven to work, however; due to the fact that no wizard was willing to be used as a test subject._

      Belle raked a frustrated hand through her curls and groaned.  “Bloody well wonderful!  How am I going to use something that might do more harm than good?” she hissed furiously to the silent room, only the crackle of the dying fire showing any sign of life.  But if there was a chance to help her sorcerer, she would have to risk it.  Her eyes scanned hurriedly over the list of ingredients for the spell and the myriad of instructions, praying Rumpelstiltskin had them all near to hand.  She rolled up the sleeves of her leaf green gown and rose from the table to set to work.

X*X*X*X*X

      Rumpelstiltskin tossed fitfully on the chaise, one moment throwing the blanket off of him and reaching for it again in the next.  He would go from the fires of hades to a bone-chilling cold and he couldn’t rest peacefully because of it.  He couldn’t access his magic.  It was still there, trapped somewhere within him, just out of his reach.  At least the pain in his leg had ebbed into a dull ache.  It was nothing compared to the feeling of being burned alive or slowly frozen to death.

      His little caretaker was living up to her title, he had to admit.  She hovered over him like a dragon protecting her clutch of eggs.  The last time he’d awoken it was to find her replacing the throw pillow with his own soft down pillows from his bed.  She no doubt would have helped him to bed if he weren’t too heavy for her to bear his weight.  He’d never been so thankful for the deal he’d made with her…a deal that was now null and void.  Yet she’d decided to stay.

      “Belle,” he murmured weakly when he couldn’t locate her in the room.

      She was instantly at his side, smoothing her soft hand over his brow and cautioning him to remain still.  “How are you feeling?” she asked, her concern evident in the tight lines around her eyes and mouth.

      “Dreadful,” he answered honestly. “I may have to drag myself up from here and see if I can find a cure for whatever this is.”

      She lowered her gaze and fidgeted, her fingers twisting around one another in her nervousness.  “I found something.”

      “Why do I suspect this might be a bad thing?” he asked warily, burrowing deeper under his blanket.

      “Well,” she hedged.  “It’s not been tested by the person who created it and I don’t know if it will work.”

      “Is this our only option?”

      Belle nodded, her cerulean eyes shifting from his heavy lidded gaze to the tea cup sitting innocuously on the coffee table.

      His eyes widened perceptively.  “ _You_ brewed a potion?”

      She arched a brow at him and smoothed the wrinkles from his blanket, tucking the corners over his shoulders.  “It’s not that surprising, Rum.  I’ve watched you do it often enough and I followed the instructions to the letter.  I’m just waiting for it to cool so it has less chance of upsetting your stomach.”

      He struggled into a sitting position and held out his hand for the cup.  “I’m sure you did fine, dearie,” he said, the small tremor in his voice betraying his lack of confidence in her potion making skills.  Hesitantly, he took the cup from her trembling hands and raised it to his lips, wincing as the bitter brew washed over his tongue.  It took every ounce of control he possessed not to spit it out.

      “You have to drink all of it.  I measured it precisely,” she said when he tried to press the cup back into her hands.  “Please, Rum.”

      He scowled down at the brew in his precious chipped cup, pinched his nose and tossed back its contents.  It was worth it when he felt his head clear and his body temperature lower by several degrees.  He raised his hand and called on his magic, willing it to respond to his whim.  A few sparks erupted from his fingertips only to sputter and die, the cupid’s magic clamping down firmly on his own power and smothering it.

      Belle’s shoulders drooped dejectedly.  “It didn’t work, did it?”

      “No,” he admitted.  “But you said yourself that the potion hadn’t been proven effective.  I’ll just have to be without my magic for a little longer,” he said with a patient smile, one that only Belle had ever witnessed.  “It’s not like I’m going to die if we don’t find a cure.”

      Belle paled, her lovely face draining of color.  Instead of answering him, she rose to fetch the book from the worktable, setting it in his lap and opening it to the page she sought.

      His brows drew together as he read the tale.  “Not to worry, dearie.  It makes no mention of the wizard being immortal.”

      “But if you have no outlet for your magic—“

      He clasped her hands in his, his heart fluttering pleasantly when she didn’t pull them from his grasp.  She’d never been afraid of his claws for some reason unknown to him, and he was nevertheless grateful.  “It will be fine.  I’m already beginning to feel better.”

      “We have to find something else then,” she said, hiding a huge yawn behind her hand.  It was going on twenty four hours since she’d slept, but she wasn’t quite ready to give up just yet. “There must be something I’ve missed or—“

      He caught her hand as she rose to her feet, his grip loose but still exerting enough pressure to keep her at his side.  “When was the last time you slept?”

      “It doesn’t matter.  I—“

      “When?”

      She huffed out a heavy sigh, her breath blowing against the curls falling over her brow.  “Night before last?”

      “You’re not sure?” he asked, his voice rising.  It was unacceptable that she was neglecting her own needs to care for him.

      “I couldn’t leave you like this, Rumpel.  You go without sleep all the time.  I could do no less.  If there was some way I could help you…” her voice trailed off as she was attacked by another yawn. “…then I had to try.”

      “Damn stubborn woman!” he roared, his voice having gained some of its former strength.  He tossed back the heavy wool blanket and pulled her down onto the chaise, arranging her to his satisfaction until she was lying in his arms with her head pillowed on his shoulder.  He covered them both with the blanket and relaxed back against the pillows, determined to keep her there to ensure she slept.

      It was only then that he allowed himself to meet her wide-eyed gaze.  “Wh-What are you doing?” she asked, her voice taking on a breathless quality.  She could feel his lean lines pressing into her soft curves despite the layers of their clothing.

      “The moment I go back to sleep, you’ll sneak off and bury yourself in the stacks until you find something to cure me.  I won’t have you falling ill trying to care for me, Belle.  This way we might both be able to sleep,” he explained, his warm breath fanning over her temple.

      “Highly doubtful,” she whispered, snuggling down into his warmth with a delighted sigh of contentment.

      “What was that?”

      “Nothing, Rum. I just said I hope you don’t snore,” she snarked, hiding her smile against his neck.  He snorted and mumbled something unintelligible, but she’d already drifted off, safe and secure in her beloved’s arms.

      Rumpelstiltskin shifted in discomfort, feeling the tightening of his body brought on by his little caretaker pressed so close to him.  How many nights had he lain awake, thoughts of her occupying his mind to the point of madness?  And now she was lying beside him, comfortable in his embrace and he was terrified to touch her in even the most innocent manner, afraid that she would come to her senses and flee.  He sighed and pressed his nose to her fragrant curls, the scent of lavender and roses tickling his senses.  He couldn’t deny it any longer.  He loved her.  He doubted he’d ever have the courage to tell her, but he could no longer lie to himself.  She was everything good and pure and he would never feel worthy of her, but he couldn’t continue to live with the denial.  He just wondered if it was the magic of the arrow or his own true feelings. 

      Cupid’s arrow was purported to only enhance the feelings one held within their heart, so he knew without a doubt that it was his own feelings he’d eventually have to confess to her.  Until he did, he’d have to suffer the consequences.

X*X*X*X*X

      Belle woke shortly after twilight, the last rays of the dying sun lighting the sky before they disappeared altogether to leave the stars and moon in full glorious view through the open window.  She tossed the blanket off and wiped the fine sheen of perspiration from her brow, overwarm in the cocoon Rumpelstiltskin had made for them.  She stretched languorously next to him and smiled, feeling as if she’d never rested as well as she had snuggled within his embrace…as if she were made to be there.

      She frowned, unsettled by the shallow breaths that rattled in his chest and his temperature that seemed to have risen in the hours they’d slumbered.  Perhaps if she tried another dose of the potion.  There should be enough left to sustain him until she was able to come up with another solution.

      Carefully, so as not to disturb his fitful rest, she eased out from under his arm and slipped on her satin slippers she’d kicked off when he’d pulled her onto the chaise with him.  She hurried to the kitchen to boil water and prepare a tea tray, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.  If she was going to force him to choke down more of the vile potion, she could at least have something to soothe him afterwards.  Perhaps if she mixed the potion with the tea? Or just sweetened it with a bit of sugar?  It couldn’t hurt, she thought as she waited for the kettle to whistle.

      It didn’t take her long to return to the tower and she took the time to prepare his cup and set it aside in readiness before taking a spare cup and measuring out some of the potion, adding a sugar cube and stirring it until the lump dissolved.  She carried it over to him and gently shook his shoulder.

      “Rumpel?  Rumpel, wake up,” she called gently, not wanting to startle him from a sound sleep.  She’d quite learned her lesson the first time she’d frightened him from his sleep.  She’d found herself dangling upside down with her knickers on display for all to see, her skirts and petticoat hanging down to conceal her flaming face.  _“Learn to duck”_ had been his only response before he’d released her from the errant burst of magic and set off down the hall.

      The mage groaned and pulled the blanket up over his head, wishing to be left alone with his misery.

      “Rum, please.  You need to drink this.  It will make you feel better,” she cajoled, tugging the blanket away from his face.  He held on tightly, but in his weakened condition, he couldn’t fight her for long.

      “Belle, it’s not going to work…and it’s bloody awful,” he pouted, pushing himself into a semi-sitting position and crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

      “This will be better and I have a fresh cup of tea for you to wash the taste away afterwards,” she replied, refusing to let his petulant pouting put her off.  Her smile widened when he lifted the cup to his lips and drank it down in one long swallow.  Her sweet smiling lips fell into a puzzled frown as he froze in the act of handing her the cup, his eyes widening in alarm.

      “Why is it sweet?” he asked fearfully.  “What did you do to it?”

      “I-I just added a sugar c-cube to cut the bitterness,” she stammered.

      “Goblin’s garters! Belle, the first rule of potion making is that you _never,_ under any circumstances, add sugar to a potion,” he growled, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as the potion churned unpleasantly in his stomach.  His head cleared and his temperature slowly began to descend, but now the arrow’s magic swirled and roiled through his body.  It felt like warm honey coating his insides and he didn’t know if he liked the sensation at all. 

      Belle paled, scooting closer and pressing the back of her hand to his brow, relieved that his fever had come down some.  “I’m sorry!  I didn’t know.”

      Warm, sticky sweetness was coiling through him and a silly grin tugged at his lips.  _Oh this doesn’t bode well,_ he thought.  His tongue felt thick, as if it had a mind and will of its own. _No, definitely not!!_   He accepted the tea cup from her and lifted it to his lips in the hopes of busying them so as not to give in to the urge to speak.  His control lasted all of two seconds.

      “It’s not your fault, love.  If I had taken the time to show you, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said, the endearment slipping from his tongue against his will.  _FUCK!!!_   “I mean…if I weren’t afraid…” He clamped his hand over his mouth to stem the traitorous words.

      Belle’s lips parted on a gasp.  “What? What could you possibly be afraid of?”

      A spark of his magic erupted from the hand that held the cup and it tumbled from his hand onto the carpet, splashing tea over her feet.  She reached for a towel and dried it up, still waiting for him to explain. 

      “Of you rejecting me, of you shying away from me if I happened to touch you while teaching you what you needed to learn, from…”  With a concentrated effort he bit down hard on his tongue, capturing it between his teeth.  _Stupid potion’s worse than truth serum!!_

       Belle eyes widened, shining like twin jewels in the candlelight. “Of course I wouldn’t reject you,” she answered, her voice soft with the emotions welling up inside her.  “Where is this coming from, Rumpel?  Why are you telling me this?”

      His tongue slipped from between his teeth and he was off on another round of honesty.  “I think the sugar added to this particular potion is acting like a truth—“ he clamped his mouth shut again and covered it with both hands.

      “A truth potion?” she asked, her lips curving into a delighted smile.

      His traitorous limbs refused to obey his commands and he nodded. “Mmhm,” came the muffled reply.

      Belle caught her bottom lip between her pearly teeth, realizing in an instant that she could ask him _all_ the questions that had plagued her since the moment they’d met.  But if she did, it would destroy the fragile trust she’d gained from him.  She couldn’t take advantage of him in such a way.  Oh but how she wanted to.

      “It’s ok, Rumpel.  Just don’t talk to me until the potion wears off,” she said, her tone filled with sadness.  “I won’t ask you to take a chance on betraying your secrets.”

      That sticky sweetness was curling through him again and he realized he wanted nothing more than to share his secrets with her.  He found himself wanting to pull her onto his lap and nuzzle against her as he told her every tawdry thing about his past, his deals, his weaknesses and damn the consequences.

      “Ask me…anything,” he said, reaching for her hands and twining his fingers with hers, opening himself up to the pain of her possible rejection.  He gave into the magic coursing through him instead of battling against it.  Her willingness to protect their fragile relationship proved to him just how much it meant to her, at the same time showing him without a doubt that she would never betray the trust he put in her by spilling his secrets.

      “Rumpel…” she protested.

      “Anything, Belle.”

      His fingers tightened around hers and finally she chose the most inane of what she could ask.  “Why did you choose me as your price?” she asked, unable to bear his penetrating gaze and choosing instead to look at their clasped hands.

      A crooked grin curled up one corner of his mouth as he remembered that day in her father’s war room and it took quite a bit on his part not to giggle at the memory.  “When you looked at me, it was with curiosity rather than fear.  You were a puzzle I desperately wanted to solve.  Why would you look on the monster and not run screaming as so many before you have done?  I didn’t need gold, nor jewels, or anything else your father could have offered.  Your bravery and strength intrigued me. Only you would suffice.”

      “Why should I fear you?  You’re just a man, Rumpel, albeit one with magic, but still just a man.”

      He snorted, enjoying the way the arrow’s magic warmed him from the inside out now that he had yielded to it, his own magic strengthening and bonding with it.  He felt stronger.  He’d always believed love to be weakness, yet it flowed through him with alarming strength.  “Next question?” he prompted.

      “That’s not necessary,” she assured him, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles.

      “I’m certain one more won’t be my undoing, love,” he drawled, this time the endearment pleasant on his tongue.

      Belle sucked in a sharp breath, butterflies the size of dragons taking flight in her belly.  “Why do you hide from me for days at a time?  You lock yourself away and I…I miss you,” she said, her eyes welling with tears she couldn’t hide.

      He lifted his hand and stroked his knuckles alongside her cheek in the softest caress.  “To protect you,” he said simply, the sight of her tears causing more mortar and stone to quake and crumble from the walls protecting his heart.

      She leaned into his caress as a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye.  “From what…you? You would never hurt me.”

      “Oh, Belle, whether you want to admit it or not, the simple fact is that I am indeed a beast…with urges.  Urges I don’t even remember having when I was human for any woman of my acquaintance…especially not my wife before she abandoned us.  I want you so much and when I feel my control slipping I lock myself away to prevent any…mishaps,” he admitted ruefully, the skin beneath his cheekbones darkening considerably at his confession.

      “You want me…oh…that way,” she whispered breathily.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  Is it so farfetched to think that I might want you too?” She couldn’t decide if she wanted to slap him or kiss him senseless.

      He stared at her incredulously.  “Belle…”

      “Oh don’t _Belle_ me,” she huffed, angry over the time that had been lost between them, time they could have been together in _all_ ways possible between two people who cared deeply for one another.  “Just what else have you been hiding from me?”

      “I know how to break the arrow’s spell,” he said in a rush, wincing at the horror clearly evident in her flashing eyes.

      “You let yourself suffer through the pain and fever when you could have ended it at any time?” she hissed, her voice rising.  She had her answer when his gaze slid away guiltily.  “How do we fix this, Rumpel?”

      He sighed wearily, but still didn’t raise his eyes to meet her determined stare.  “I simply have to admit to you…”

      “What?”

      “The arrow compels one to admit their feelings to the object of their affection, Belle.  The fever, the pain, the return of my magic depends upon it and yet I’m too much of a coward to lay myself bare before you,” he said, his features slipping into a blank mask, hiding from her once more.

      “You are entirely too stubborn for your own good.  You know that, right?” she asked, gathering her courage about her like a cloak and scooting onto his lap…mindful of his injury…to wrap her arms around his neck.  She pressed her brow to his, their noses brushing gently and breathed him in, his scent of wood smoke and straw and sandalwood increasing the heat unfurling through her body to settle in her belly.  “Tell me…please, Rumpel,” she whispered, her lips nearly touching his.  “I can’t stand to see you in pain.  Tell me so you can heal. Please, my love.”

      His fear dissipated as she called him an endearment of her own, the warm sticky sweetness that clung to him now nearly as pleasurable as having her in his arms.  He searched her eyes as his arms slipped around her waist and drew her closer, seeing only love and tender regard reflected within their depths instead of the painful rejection he’d anticipated. 

      “I love you, Belle,” he breathed, feeling the walls around his heart crumble to dust.  His magic surged through him, healing his battered body and leaving him whole.  Yet, he didn’t stop there.  “With everything I am…I truly love you.”

      “And I love you too…forever.”

 

The End


End file.
